


Cold Like Fire

by QueenofThyme



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Post-Hogwarts, auror!Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-03-27 11:05:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13879551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenofThyme/pseuds/QueenofThyme
Summary: Head Auror Harry Potter had no problem with mandatory consent training for his team. He’d actually been looking forward to it, that is, until he discovered who the teacher was. Now, he had no idea how he was going to get through the training without throwing a hex at Draco Malfoy. Or a punch.





	1. Monday

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Draco giving a "Consent is Sexy" training at the Ministry after there had been problems with witches and wizards being harassed. Draco using Harry to demonstrate ways to ask for consent? if you want:)
> 
> With love to my beta Ms Wonderland ;)

 

Harry twirled his wand in the pocket of his robe as he paced his office. He’d given up on reading field reports when he realised he wasn’t absorbing anything anymore. There was nothing to do now but wait. 

It wasn’t the consent training Harry was uneasy about. Mandatory consent training for Ministry of Magic staff had been something he’d strongly supported as a Department Head. No, the problem was Draco Malfoy. 

Never would Harry have guessed that Draco Malfoy had become a consent trainer. Harry had assumed he was in hiding somewhere, living ostentatiously off his family money, until Maya Bletchley, the Head of the Department for Magical Transportation, had given Harry the considerate heads up. 

Today was the first day of the aptly named ‘Consent is Sexy’ training and also the first time Harry would see Draco Malfoy in almost ten years. Even so, Harry knew what to expect. Draco might have had a respectable job now but that didn’t mean he wasn’t the same arrogant, self-serving, entitled man he always was. Some people were beyond change. 

But that wasn’t for Harry to concern himself with. He would remain civil for the sake of the training, and within a week, Draco would be gone for another ten years, if not forever. Harry would not let his personal feelings get in the way. The training was more important. And, although he could not reconcile it in his mind, Maya insisted Draco was an excellent teacher. 

At exactly 9.30am, there was a knock at Harry’s office door. Even though he had been expecting (and dreading) it all morning, the noise still startled him. He gripped his wand a little tighter in his pocket as he walked to the door. He reached for the handle with his other hand and then changed his mind on his approach. 

He dropped his hand and moved to his desk, taking a seat behind it and pulling his wand from his robe. With one last deep breath, let out with an audible sigh, Harry raised his wand and magicked the door open. 

Although he knew what was coming, Harry was still quite shocked to see Draco Malfoy standing outside his office. The desire to insult, hex and punch came over him all in a rush, a familiar childhood rage threatening to take control. He focused on keeping his face impassive. 

Draco had aged well, growing into the sharp angles of his face, but his expression hadn’t changed at all. With a slight downturn to the eyebrows and a sour twist of lips that were firmly pursed, Draco presented himself exactly as Harry expected him to. 

Their eyes met but neither said anything. Harry was just starting to wonder whether they were having a staring contest when Draco’s eyes flickered down.

It was then that Harry noticed Draco’s clothes: chinos, a light peach button up and slimline blazer. It took him a second to work out what was wrong with them. They were muggle. Draco was wearing muggle clothes. 

That was unexpected. 

Draco walked into the room, all prim and proper as if he were balancing books on his head, and shrugged off his jacket, folding it over the back of the chair across from Harry.

A snap of colour caught Harry’s eye and he followed it to a tight purple band on Draco’s left forearm. The peach shirt he wore was folded back up to his elbows so it was clearly visible. Harry studied it for a moment, confused, before understanding dawned. How could he forget? And how could Draco think his history could be erased with a thin piece of fabric?

The sight of the armband sent a fizzle of anger through Harry’s veins. He could feel it in every part of his body now – the desire to punch, to hex, to hurt. He fought against it, of course. Extensive Auror training had taught him to control his anger or, at least, the physical outbursts of it. Instead, he lowered his wand and seethed inside, eyes trained on the band, waiting for it to slip and reveal the true character of its owner. 

The band didn’t slip of course. It was tight and probably magicked on. 

When Harry finally pulled his eyes back up to Draco’s face, he was satisfied to see he had been caught staring. _Good_ , he thought. Let him feel the judgment. 

Draco didn’t comment. He took a step closer to the desk and held out a hand – his other hand – for Harry to shake. Harry looked down at it in distaste. Draco had long bony fingers and knuckles so pale they appeared translucent. It wasn’t the same hand that Draco had held out all those years ago in first year but it filled Harry with a similar sense of revulsion. 

Despite his forebodings, Harry took a deep breath and accepted Draco’s hand. It was as cold as its owner but Harry stopped himself from flinching away. He was going to be professional for the sake of his team. He didn’t have to like Draco to do that. A handshake was only a symbol of trust and symbols meant very little to Harry these days. 

“Thank you,” Draco said softly, his first words, as their hands fell apart. Harry wasn’t sure why. 

Draco sat down, rigidly upright, and crossed his legs, clasping his hands over his knee and leaving his purple armband exposed. Harry’s eyes darted down to it again, picturing the Dark Mark underneath. 

Draco cleared his throat and Harry looked up. He’d been caught staring again. 

“Do you have any questions or concerns about the training?”

Draco’s voice was smooth and professional with no sign of animosity. Harry hoped he could retain the same control in his own voice. 

“No,” he answered, wondering if he should. 

“Are there any issues within your team that I should know about?”

“Issues?”

“Reports of harassment, hostility to the announcement of this training, animosity between Aurors?”

“What are you suggesting?” Harry asked automatically, forgetting his intention to remain professional. 

“I’m not suggesting anything,” Draco returned smoothly. “I’m asking if there is anything I need to be aware of before I begin training.”

“No. No issues,” Harry answered quickly. Even if there were issues, he wasn’t likely to tell Draco Malfoy about it. Although, he reflected internally, that probably wasn’t the best attitude to have about his team’s consent trainer. 

“Good,” Draco said. There was no change in his tone or expression, but Harry could still sense the judgement. Draco had been here all of a minute and he already thought he had Harry’s team pegged. It was obvious. “Would you like to see the program?”

“The program?”

A slight smirk appeared on Draco’s face. It was only for half a second before he rectified it, but in that moment, a number of memories flashed into Harry’s head, none of them pleasant. He clenched a hand around his wand, holding it tightly beneath his desk. 

“For the training,” Draco explained. 

“Do I have any say it?”

“No. It’s a standard program pre-approved by the Minister For Magic’s advisory team.”

“Then, no.”

Draco raised an eyebrow and cleared his throat again. “Do you have a room appropriate for the training?”

“Yes.” 

Silence.

“Can I see it?”

Harry nodded and hastily shoved his wand back into the pocket of his robe before standing up.

He showed Draco silently into one of the briefing rooms that had been repurposed as a classroom. A chalkboard sat against one wall, ready to be levitated, and tables had been moved in to accompany the briefing chairs. 

Harry leant by the door as Draco looked around the room. Draco peeked through the drawn blinds at the artificial windows. “Sunny, today,” he commented but made no move to open them.

“Is there anything else you need?” Harry asked, making sure the obligation in his tone was obvious. 

“No,” Draco said pulling out a small stack of notes from the pocket of his trousers. “This will do nicely." He pulled his wand from his other pocket – the distinctive holly finish reminded Harry of the one he carried himself – and enlarged the stack on the desk at the front of the room. 

There were still ten minutes left until the training was due to start so Harry left Draco alone and returned to his office. He closed (and locked) the door, lay down on the floor and focused on his breathing. He needed to calm himself down. He didn’t want to sit in the class seething and not absorb anything. Learning from Draco was clearly going to be a challenge.

At a minute to, Harry reluctantly pulled himself up, adjusting his glasses and running a hand through his hair. As much as he wanted to see the look on Draco’s face if he arrived late, he needed to set an example for his team. 

He walked out onto the main floor and could see a number of Aurors still sitting at their desks. “Tandel. Stretton. Goldstein. Briefing room, _now._ ”

Marcus Stretton looked up at Harry but remained sitting. “I’ve just had intel about Mulciber so I think I’ll have to give this one a miss.”

“You know his location?”

“No, but a barkeep saw him last week at– ”

“So,” Harry interrupted, “you’re already a week behind him and you think another half an hour is going to set you back significantly?”

“Yes, so– ”

“Then you shouldn’t have arrived 45 minutes late to work this morning. Briefing room. Now.”

Harry wasn’t a clock watcher. He knew his team always worked the extra hours when it mattered so he didn’t mind if they left early on a Friday occasionally or slept in a couple of days a week. But he had been warned there might be people who wouldn’t take this training seriously and he wasn’t about to let anyone miss it for something non-urgent. 

Stretton trailed behind Harry into the briefing room quietly. Harry knew he’d be bitched about later at lunch but he didn’t care. He was used to it as Head Auror. It had taken a while to get accustomed to using his authority, telling instead of asking, but once he did, he found he had a knack for it. He was reasonable but he had high expectations and he didn’t take crap. Even if a couple of his Aurors vented about him now and again, they still respected him. 

Harry didn’t look at Draco as he walked in. He was delaying the inevitable of course but he knew as soon as he saw that purple band again, all his deep breathing would have been for nothing.

Conducting a quick head check to make sure everyone was accounted for, Harry was relieved to see the room was full. There were only two empty chairs left at the front of the room (of course). Hearing Stretton trudge to the back of the room behind him and conjure a chair, Harry wanted to do the same. But he made his way to the front anyway. 

When Harry had taken his seat, Draco began immediately, introducing himself and the reason for the training. Harry looked back at his team as Draco explained, making sure everyone was taking it seriously. Carina Goldstein was whispering to a giggling Jill McKinnon. Harry was about to say something but Draco beat him to it. 

“Is this training not important to you?” He asked, manoeuvring around the tables to stand in front of Goldstein and McKinnon.

Goldstein leant back in her chair and crossed her arms. It was the exact position she often took in the interrogation room. “It’s not the training I have a problem with.”

“Then I would ask you to show your respect and sensitivity to– ”

“Sensitivity?” Goldstein interrupted. “That’s rich coming from a Death Eater.”

The room tittered. Someone – probably McKinnon – gasped. Draco showed no obvious reaction in his face but he didn’t reply for a beat. 

Harry battled internally with himself whether to interrupt or let Draco flail. Obligation won over.

“Goldstein. Outside now.”

Goldstein stood up, kicking her chair back unnecessarily, and headed to the door. Harry followed.

Outside the room, Harry cast a quick silencing charm before turning to her. She was leaning up against the wall, a familiar stubbornness on her face. Harry steeled himself.

“That was inappropriate. You need to– ”

“But it’s true,” Goldstein argued. “He _is_ a Death Eater. A murderer. And for all we know, he’s also a–“

“He’s never killed anyone,” Harry interrupted. That much he could say in Draco’s defence.

Goldstein rolled her eyes at that. “I’m not going to sit there and pretend like a Death Eater knows more about consent than I do.”

“You will and he does,” Harry said firmly. “I have reservations about...his past too. But he has been recommended by the Minister for Magic herself and we could all use a bit of this training. So I don’t care what you think about him, keep it quiet and listen. If you don’t respect him, then respect the training.” 

It was an easy spiel because it was all the same things Harry had been reminding himself all morning. Truthfully, he hadn’t been that convinced, but saying it aloud helped reinforce it.

Goldstein huffed and Harry knew he had won. “Aren’t there any other consent teachers?” She asked. 

“I’ve been told Malfoy’s the best.”

“Fine,” Goldstein agreed, uncrossing her arms, “but I don’t like it.”

“Me neither,” Harry muttered under his breath as he followed her back in.

Draco was waiting for them silently at the front of the room. His eyes flickered to Harry with an unspoken thank you. Harry looked away quickly. As soon as he took his seat, Draco started again.

“I expect you all to treat this training with the seriousness it deserves, especially since I’ve been brought in due to repeated reports of sexual harassment in the Ministry.” Draco paused, looking around the room. “Can anyone tell me what consent is?”

Harry waited for his team to answer but there was only silence. He turned around but couldn’t meet anyone’s eye. Nobody wanted to be the first to answer. Harry silently cursed and turned back to the front, raising his hand. 

Draco nodded at him to speak. “Go ahead, P–“ Draco stopped himself. For the first time, his composure appeared to slip. “Should I call you Auror Potter?” He asked.

“Just call me Harry,” Harry said automatically before he realised who he was speaking to. He could have just left it but a residual spitefulness in him spoke up. “Actually, it’s probably best if you do address me as Auror Potter.”

If Draco realised the extent of the slight – which Harry’s team did judging by the whispers – he didn’t show it. “Go ahead then, Auror Potter.”

Harry felt very much like he was back in school. ”Consent is saying yes,” he said as quickly as possible. 

“Could you elaborate?” 

Harry shrugged, his eyes falling to Draco’s armband again. “Well that’s it, isn’t it?” He said, hoping his irritation wasn’t leaking into his tone too much. “No means no. Yes means yes.”

“So if you asked someone influenced by a love potion to have sex with you and they said yes, you would consider that consent?”

Harry’s head snapped up. “Hang on– ”

“If you asked someone under your employ to have sex with you in order to be promoted and they said yes, you would consider that consent?”

Someone behind Harry laughed. He felt his face heat up, equal parts anger and humiliation.

“I would never– ”

“You’re right that no means no,” Draco interrupted. “But yes doesn’t always mean yes.” He looked past Harry to the rest of the room. “I don’t see why anyone is sniggering when no one else could raise their hands and properly explain consent to me. You’re all adults. Please act like it.”

As much as he had tried to avoid it, Harry spent the rest of the training seething. Draco had humiliated him in front of his team. It was clear he was exactly the same man Harry had known, just with less pretentious clothing and in better control of his emotions. 

When the morning’s training ended and everyone filed out, Harry stayed behind, one hand in his pocket. 

Draco bustled about, summoning the worksheets he’d given out during the meeting and re-shrinking all his papers. It took him a few minutes to notice Harry was still in the room.

“You’re still here,” he said, the surprise in his tone not filtering through to his face. “How do you think the training went?”

“Yeah, alright, except for the part when you implied I’d coerce my employees into having sex with me.” Harry didn’t care to control his tone. “In front of those employees.”

“I didn’t– ”

“If I can stare at that pathetic purple band all week and pretend I don’t know _exactly_ what’s underneath, then you can pretend you have an inkling of respect for me.”

Draco stared back at Harry unblinking, his expression the usual sour judgement that made Harry’s stomach turn. 

“You’re right,” he said after a moment. “It was inappropriate of me. I apologise."

Harry hadn’t expected that. He huffed and continued anyway. “If you can’t stop your personal feelings from getting in the way, then you shouldn’t– ”

Harry paused when Draco finally broke his facade with a laugh. There wasn’t any humour in it. “What’s so funny?” He asked.

“I rather thought that’s what you were doing.”

Harry felt his face burning again, his anger reaching boiling point. He stood up. “If I had let my personal feelings get in the way, then you wouldn’t be here at all,” he said through gritted teeth.

Before he did something stupid like pull his wand from his pocket, or (more tempting) go over to Draco and punch him in the face, Harry walked out of the room. He headed straight for his office, slammed the door and lay down, taking slow steady breaths. One week. He just needed to get through one week of Draco Malfoy. 

It couldn’t be that hard, could it?


	2. Tuesday

Harry was dreading seeing Draco again. He was agitated and jumpy in a way he hadn’t been since school. All the progress he’d made over the years controlling his anger seemed wasted when he was in this state. He knew he could just as easily hex Draco in place of greeting him. 

But there was no getting out of it. As Head Auror, he couldn’t exactly skip mandatory training, especially when he’d already reprimanded Stretton and Goldstein for trying to skip it. He needed to set an example. He needed to stop fantasising about punching Malfoy. 

The time came quickly, as it always does when you’re dreading something. Harry stepped out of his office – where he’d been hiding to miss Draco’s entrance – and took a quick look around the office to make sure there were no stragglers. 

Tandel and Stretton were still at their desks. He approached Stretton. “If you give me another bullshit excuse, you’re off field work for the rest of the week.”

Stretton looked up at Harry like he wanted to argue but he kept silent and stood up. Tandel followed and they both headed down the hall to the briefing room. 

There was no more reason to delay. 

As Harry entered, Draco nodded at him. Harry ignored it and sat down in the remaining front row seat. 

While Draco addressed the room, Harry avoided eye contact, his eyes boring into the purple band on Draco’s arm. Today, Draco was wearing a short green button up that clashed with the purple of the band and made him look a little absurd. Behind the band, Harry could picture the skull’s empty eyes and the twisting snake that fell from its mouth–

“Penetration?” Draco’s voice hit Harry, pulling him from his daydream. “Oral sex? What about sex toys? BDSM? Other kinks you– ”

“What?” Harry blurted out, wondering what the fuck he was hearing. 

A ripple of laughter went through the room. Draco raised an eyebrow.

“I’m just pointing out, Auror Potter, that you have to be specific with your questioning. It’s not enough to just ask someone if they want to have sex, considering the different types of sex possible. You can never ask too many questions.”

Harry’s face heated up at his own blunder. This training was going to be the death of him. 

“Next we’re going to have to ask if we can hold somebody’s hand for Merlin’s sake,” Tandel muttered from the back of the room, clear enough for everyone to hear. 

“If they don’t like it, they can just say no,” added Stretton. "I’m not going to ask every time I want to fuck my wife a different way.”

Harry was ready to silence his team, but Draco gave him a look.

“I can’t speak for your wife, Auror– ”

“Stretton.”

“Auror Stretton. But I would advise you to focus less on the lack of a no and much more on the presence of an enthusiastic yes.”

Harry turned to Stretton to watch his reaction. He had a better handle on his team than Draco and he was prepared to take over if the situation called for it. 

Stretton opened his mouth to speak, looking very much like he was about to argue, when Draco spoke again. 

“I’m not necessarily talking a verbal yes. Consent can be communicated non-verbally as well. I trust when you think back on your own experiences, you will be able to think of an example.” 

Draco paused. When Stretton didn’t say anything further, he continued. 

“When I tell you to ask questions and be specific, all I’m asking is that you make your intentions clear to your partner or partners. Gauge their interest. And if you’re ever not sure, don’t assume. Ask again. Be clearer. Communicate. Ask questions.”

Ask questions. There was one particular question rebounding in Harry’s head. He knew he shouldn’t ask it, especially not with an audience, but here Draco was, goading him, telling him to ask questions. So he did. 

“Why do you bother wearing that band?”

Harry immediately regretted asking when he heard the titters from his Aurors. After reprimanding Draco for undermining him in front of his team, he’d done the same thing back. Even if Draco deserved it – and he obviously did – it was still doing a disservice to the training. Exactly what Harry had vowed not to do. 

Draco didn’t answer for a moment. He looked down at the band in question and stared at it in silence, a painfully tense silence that Harry wanted to escape. And then Draco looked up.

“Not exactly the type of question I was referring to, Auror Potter.”

More titters. Draco ignored them, directing his answer only to Harry. 

“I’m quite aware most people know _exactly what’s underneath_ ,” he said, his voice tightening as he used Harry’s words. “But I don’t think it’s particularly kind to force others to look upon _his_ symbol, particularly those who may have suffered at his hand. Neither do I believe it’s appropriate for me to hide or deny my past.

“Purple,” Draco continued, raising his arm, “particularly in a bright shade like this, is my least favourite colour. It goes with nothing in my wardrobe and always stands out.” He dropped his arm. “A minor but fitting punishment, wouldn’t you think?”

“It’s not a punishment at all,” Goldstein said behind Harry. “You should still be in Azkaban.”

Draco didn’t look away from Harry. “Maybe I should.”

Harry stared back at Draco, unable to formulate words. His eyes once again found the purple band, although it looked quite different now. Draco was right – it did stand out. Harry’s eyes were always drawn to it. He’d thought that Draco was trying to hide his Dark Mark but, of course, Harry could see now that was obviously not the case. If he only wished to hide it, all he needed to do was wear long sleeves.

Draco didn’t wait for Harry to reply, which was good because Harry was having a rather slow and drawn out epiphany. And although it took a long time to get there, by the end of the training, Harry had one clear decisive thought: Draco Malfoy _had_ changed.

The room cleared out quickly and Harry found himself alone with Draco. He was stacking and shuffling papers slowly, eyes down, as if waiting for Harry to leave before him. Harry stood up and approached him.

“Malfoy?”

Draco looked up, the only expression on his face a cautious look in his eyes. “Auror Potter,” he acknowledged with a polite nod. 

Auror Potter. It sounded so foreign and distant to Harry. Nobody called him that. Maybe he should have just let Draco call him Harry.He was considering saying that and other reconciliatory things he was still grasping at the words for, but he’d already paused too long and Draco was looking at him expectantly–

“Good class.” 

Draco’s lip twitched, a slight flick upwards. “Thank you.”

Deciding that was enough reconciliation for one day, Harry turned away, ready to make a hasty exit.

"Auror Potter?”

Harry turned back around. “Yes?”

“I’d like to speak with you. Do you have time to join me for a coffee?”

“What do you want to speak to me about?”

Draco blinked back at Harry blankly, his mouth falling open and shut but never delivering actual words. When it fell open for the fifth time, Harry put Draco out of his misery.

“Fine.”

Draco’s lips twitched again. 

Harry would have preferred to apparate somewhere for coffee as he always did for lunch but when Draco led them to the Ministry Cafe on the main floor, he didn’t see the point in arguing. Which was a bit of a turnaround to how he'd been feeling half an hour ago.

They both ordered tea, despite Draco’s original suggestion, and sat at a high table by the edge of the cafe which looked out onto the Floo transportation floor. Harry watched the fireplaces light up as he waited for his tea to cool. He waved at a few people he knew from various departments, and then, when he could take the silence no longer, he turned to Draco. Draco was using his wand to swirl his tea, his eyes focused on the movement with rapt attention. 

“Are we going to say anything?”

Draco jerked his head up at Harry’s voice, like he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone. His eyes flitted across Harry’s face and fell back down as he dropped a hand to his pocket. “I have a list,” he said cryptically. 

Harry wasn’t sure what to make of that. He watched as Draco drew a tightly rolled up piece of paper from his pocket and began unravelling it. It didn’t look like much to start with but by the time Draco had rolled it open to its full length, it trailed on the floor. 

Draco cleared his throat and started speaking. It sounded rehearsed. “There are many things I’ve done in my past that I’m not proud of and a great number of them were to you. I owe– ” 

“That’s a list of all the bad things you’ve done to me?” Harry interrupted, cottoning on quickly. His eyes flicked down to the spot beneath Draco’s chair where the paper finally ended. 

“Yes, so I can apologise for each of– ”

“Each?” Harry interrupted again. “You’re going to apologise for everything on that list?”

“Yes,” Draco said with a short nod, as if it wasn’t a completely bizarre thing to do. 

Harry frowned, realising where this was heading. “And I’m supposed to just forgive you?” 

Draco’s jaw tightened. “You’re not supposed to do anything other than listen.” He cleared his throat and looked down at his list. “Number one: I apologise for the time I– ”

“I accept your apologies,” Harry said quickly. He didn’t quite see how Draco narrating their sordid history was going to help their relationship in the slightest. If anything, Harry expected it would just make him angry. 

Draco looked up from his list, clearly sceptical. “But you haven’t let me apologise even once yet.”

“Verbal apologies don’t carry much weight with me, Malfoy.” Harry took a deep breath, surprised he was saying this to Draco Malfoy of all people. “If you’ve really turned over a new leaf, then whatever. Let’s wipe the slate clean.”

Draco’s eyes ran over Harry’s face. After a moment, he sighed. 

“We can’t have a clean slate if you’re going to keep looking at me like that.”

“But I’m– ”

Draco raised a hand. “Before you say anything, I’m not saying I don’t deserve it. If you can’t get past the things I’ve done, that’s on me, not you. But don’t say clean slate if you don’t really mean it. We don’t have to start this if you don’t want to.”

“And what exactly are we starting?” Harry asked carefully.

Draco shuffled in his chair and sat up a little straighter. “If you haven’t noticed Auror Potter, I’ve always been quite eager to be your friend.” He held out a hand.

Harry stared at it as it shook slightly and then back up to Draco’s face. He wore the same expression as usual – a slightly furrowed brow with lips pursed – and Harry was just starting to realise maybe he had interpreted it wrong. It didn’t look so sour now as much as…guarded. It made Harry consider what else he had misread. 

He took Draco Malfoy’s hand and shook it firmly, surprised again by its coldness. As he did, a small smile that Harry suspected he wasn’t intended to see flashed across Draco’s face before Draco composed himself.

“Clean slate,” Harry affirmed. 

Draco’s voice was quiet as he carefully rolled up his list. “Thank you.”


	3. Wednesday

Harry didn’t have to push anyone to attend the training today. Not even himself. He wasn’t about to start shouting Draco’s praises anytime soon, but he no longer wanted to punch Draco’s face in every time he saw him which was an impressive step from where they’d once been. 

Harry may have been imagining it (and it wouldn’t be the first time he’d misread a situation), but Draco seemed a little livelier in class. A little more comfortable. A little more in his element.

Even so, Draco couldn’t avoid the heckles from the class as he discussed how alcohol could affect consent.

“So I can’t take my wife out for a boozy lunch and then have sex?”

Harry rolled his eyes – he was getting pretty tired of hearing about Stretton’s wife.

Draco remained calm, as he always did in class. “You could,” he replied, “although preferably not on a weekday.” Harry heard McKinnon laugh at the weak joke. “It depends on the context of the situation,” Draco continued. 

“That’s your answer to everything,” Tandel said from the back of the room. 

Where Harry would have reprimanded Tandel for his scathing tone, Draco only smiled. “That’s because it _is_ the answer to everything.” Tandel scoffed. Draco continued. “Personally, I would never engage in intercourse with a new partner if both of us weren’t sober, but it’s not a hard and fast rule. ”

Harry never thought he’d be sitting in a makeshift classroom listening to Draco Malfoy discussing his sex life, but here he was. And it was adequately weird. 

“I don’t think I’d have the guts to do half the things I do in bed with strangers if I wasn’t at least a little tipsy,” Peakes blurted out beside Harry. Her face immediately went red as the realisation of what she’d just revealed hit her. It seemed nobody’s sex life was off limits in this room.

“Bravery,” Draco’s voice rang out from the front of the class, “is an attractive trait.”

Harry looked up to find Draco’s eyes on him and wondered what on earth he had meant to imply.

 

* * *

 

“Auror Potter, how did you find the training today?”

Harry watched as his Auror team filed out before he replied. Goldstein was giving him a particularly hard look. 

“Great. Really great,” he answered honestly. The training had certainly improved since he’d stopped hating his teacher. 

Draco nodded. “Brilliant,” he said quietly without showing his teeth.

“Well,” Harry said, backing away. “I guess I’ll see you tomorr– ”

“Would you care to have lunch together?”

Harry paused on the word _tomorrow,_ his mouth left ungracefully open. He hadn’t expected that. 

“Now that we’re friends,” Draco added when Harry didn’t reply. 

Draco may have fancied them friends in a single handshake but Harry rather thought they’d only just graduated to civil acquaintances. But he wasn’t about to turn the offer down and ruin all their progress so far.

“Okay. Sure.”

Draco’s eyebrows shot up his face and Harry wondered if he’d made the right decision. Was Draco only asking as a courtesy? Was Harry supposed to say no? After all, it was just as likely lunch would devolve into an argument and their progress would be ruined that way. 

It took a moment for Draco to get over his surprise – an awkward pause in which Harry didn’t know where to look – before he finally spoke. “I’ll return at one?”

“Okay,” Harry said quickly, eager to escape the conversation. “Sure.”

 

* * *

 

Harry didn’t think of Draco again until hours later. He was following Jill McKinnon down the hall, a muesli bar in his mouth and pulling on his jacket, when he ran into him. 

“Malfoy,” he said, his voice muffled around his muesli. He finished putting on his jacket and pulled the bar from his mouth. “What are you doing here?”

“Lunch. Remember?”

“Lunch,” Harry repeated, letting the word sink in. “Lunch. Lunch.” The memory finally hit him. “Shit.” He tried to hold the muesli bar behind his body. It was what he always ate when he was too busy for a real lunch. He looked over to McKinnon who was standing at the end of the hall waiting to apparate to the dark magic hotspot they’d just identified. He turned back to Draco. “Can we do it another time?”

Draco’s face did a weird sort of twist and then he smiled. “Sure,” he said stiffly. “Another time.” 

Harry could tell Draco was only being polite, that he thought Harry was just trying to get out of lunch. Shit. Harry really didn’t have time, not now, not until–

“Dinner?” Harry blurted out, immediately wishing he hadn’t. 

“What?”

Harry cleared his throat, and started walking backwards down the hall. “We’ll reschedule to tonight. I’ll meet you here after work, around six?”

He waited until Draco – whose eyebrows had disappeared into his hair – nodded before he turned fully and hurried to catch up to McKinnon. He was already wondering how bad it would look if he cancelled dinner as well.

 

* * *

 

“You changed.” It was out of Harry’s mouth before he could stop it.

“I thought– ” Draco cut himself off, pulling at his tie. He wore a grey three-piece, his tie a baby blue. “Is this not appropriate for dinner? I can– ”

“No, it’s fine,” Harry said quickly. “I just haven’t– ” He looked down at his fading Auror robes and scuffed boots.

“You look good,” Draco said and Harry jerked his head back up. “Fine, I mean,” Draco clarified. “You look fine.” 

Harry looked around, hoping no one had witnessed the awkward exchange. Only Goldstein was still at her desk, head down in paperwork. He breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Where are we going?” Draco asked as they stepped out onto the main floor of the Ministry (after a painfully silent ride down in the lift).

Harry stopped. He hadn’t thought further than the Ministry Floo gates. 

“Where were we going for lunch?”

Draco jerked his head to the Ministry Cafe. The chairs had already stacked themselves and there was a solitary rag cleaning the tables.

“Right,” Harry said to stall time, and to stop the next silence that threatened to envelop them. He filtered through a number of locations in his head, trying to work out the best place to take an enemy turned sort-of-friend. As he got to the last place he knew, he concluded restaurants didn’t cater to their particular dynamic. 

_Fuck it,_ Harry decided. “We’ll go to my favourite place,” he announced. He waited for a snarky predictable comment about it being Madam Puddifoots or The Hog’s Head but Draco didn’t say anything. 

More silence as they headed to the Floo gates. Harry was really regretting not cancelling dinner if this was any indication of how the night would unfold.

At the other end, Draco placed his unnaturally cold hand on Harry’s wrist. Harry looked at Draco in surprise.

“So you can apparate us,” he explained.

Harry felt silly for not realising and thinking… well he wasn’t sure what he’d thought, actually. He apparated quickly to avoid dwelling on it further. Draco’s hand gripped on tightly.

They arrived where Harry intended – in a small backstreet just outside of central London – and Draco dropped his hand immediately. As Draco looked around, Harry imagined the next snarky comment that never came. He still couldn’t believe Draco had changed that much.

Harry led Draco out and onto the main street as he filed through possible conversation topics in his head. The thought of the silence carrying through dinner was unbearable. 

The restaurant – Jukebox – wasn’t far. Harry held the door open but Draco gestured for Harry to go first anyway. Harry resisted the temptation to roll his eyes and entered. 

Ron and Hermione didn’t like coming here. The lighting was so dark it was hard to see your food and the noise was loud and sometimes (almost always) unpleasant. Even though it was still early, there was already someone up on stage singing Total Eclipse of the Heart in a key Harry couldn’t even recognise. 

He turned around to gauge Draco’s reaction. 

“It’s a karaoke bar,” he explained.

Draco nodded. It looked like he wanted to say something but he kept quiet. Harry wished he wouldn’t. 

They made their way to a table close to the stage, Harry in the lead, Draco silently following, as was becoming their pattern. 

“This isn’t what I expected,” Draco finally spoke up as they sat down. He picked up some paper serviettes from the table and placed them across his lap as if they were cloth.

“What did you expect?”

Draco only shrugged and picked up a laminated menu. It frustrated Harry that he didn’t make any comment about it, even when he had to hold it underneath the small fluorescent table light to read it.

Harry didn’t bother straining his eyes. He knew what he wanted. He flagged down a waiter at the first opportunity and ordered a large glass of cheap red wine, along with his usual steak. It always came out overcooked and probably unseasoned – Harry wasn’t an expert – but there was a familiarity to it that Harry liked. 

“What’s the agenda for tomorrow’s training?” Harry asked as soon as the waiter left, determined not to fall back into silence. 

“Let’s not talk about work,” Draco said unhelpfully with a short wave of his hand.

Harry gritted his teeth. He’d rather talk about work than nothing at all. He tried again. “What have you been doing the last ten years?”

Draco nodded as if he approved of the question and Harry relaxed (somewhat). Draco explained how his time in Azkaban had led him to trauma counselling and how that had eventually led him into the niche of consent training. He spoke so formally that he could have been talking about any wizard, not himself. 

Harry didn’t know how he was supposed to react to the story since Draco didn’t give any tells when speaking, so he just nodded politely, thankful for something other than silence. He didn’t ask any questions as he had the distinct feeling Draco didn’t want to talk about his past in too much detail. 

To Harry’s relief, their food arrived reasonably quickly and he was able to do something with his hands other than fiddle with his wine glass, which he’d had refilled twice already. Draco was drinking sparkling water. 

“So, how are we going?” Harry asked as he cut into his steak – overdone. “At this friends thing I mean.” It was meant to be light-hearted, an attempt at breaking down the formality of the evening, but Draco seemed to take it seriously.

“Passable,” he answered.

“ _Passable?_ ” Harry repeated.

Draco looked up from his plate. “Well, the conversation’s not exactly flowing, is it?” He said matter-of-factly.

Harry felt blood rush to his head. “Maybe it would _flow_ better if you weren’t so stiff!”

Draco raised an eyebrow, his fork frozen in front of his mouth. “Excuse me?”

“You’re so quiet and polite, how are we supposed to actually talk?”

Draco placed his cutlery down. He remained calm which only infuriated Harry further. “Would you rather I was impolite?”

Harry started to roll his eyes but stopped as he realised his answer. “Yes, actually, I would.”

“Auror Potter,” Draco said – how Harry hated being called that – “I’m not about to tuck serviettes down my shirt and eat with my hands just because it suits some absurd purpose of yours.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

Draco picked up one of the serviettes from his lap.

“You’re not actually going to– ”

“Of course not,” Draco said, scrunching the serviette into a ball. “I’m not an animal.” He dropped his arm behind his head and launched the serviette at Harry’s head.

The serviette ball started off strong but almost immediately faltered, fanning out and floating down onto the table, nowhere near its obvious target. They both looked at it sitting limply in the centre of the table and then back at each other. It wasn’t obvious who started it but suddenly they were both laughing. Not at each other either. But together.

“It works better with cloth napkins,” Draco said once they both got their breath back, whisking the serviette up and placing it back on his lap.

“I’ll be careful not to take you to any fancy restaurants then,” Harry quipped. Then realised what he’d said. They both fell back into silence. An awful rendition of Ice Ice Baby played out beside them.

Out of proper conversation starters, and feeling increasingly nervous for some reason, Harry gestured towards his steak. “Did you want a bite?”

“No, thanks,” Draco said immediately.

“It’s really no–”

“I’m a vegetarian.”

“Oh,” Harry said, picking up his wine glass. “That’s surprising.”

“I think you’ll find I can surprise you in a lot of ways.”

Harry spluttered and let the wine from his mouth dribble back into his glass in the most undignified fashion. Unfortunately, Draco had witnessed the whole thing. 

“I meant hobbies and interests, that sort of thing,” Draco clarified, patches of pink appearing around his cheekbones “Not…that.”

“Right,” Harry said quickly, placing his glass full of backwash down on the table awkwardly. “No, of course. I just drank my wine a bit too fast.”

A hint of a smile appeared on Draco’s lips. “Does the Head Auror always get drunk on work nights?”

“I’m not drunk.”

Draco raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not,” Harry insisted, hoping the recent backwash incident wouldn’t be used as evidence against him. “And even if I were, it would be warranted. I’m having dinner with _Draco Malfoy_.”

Draco’s half-smile dropped. “I wish you wouldn’t say my name like that.”

“Like what?”

“No, nothing,” Draco said, waving his hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Malfoy–”

“It’s fine,” Draco said curtly. “Why don’t you tell me how Weas– how Ron and Hermione are these days?”

The question surprised Harry. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to answer. “Good?” He hedged.

Draco grinned. “And I was the one you blamed for the conversation not flowing, right?” He teased. 

Harry felt kind of odd to have Draco’s grin directed at him like that. It wasn’t unpleasant but it was new. Very new.

“You asked a boring question,” he returned. 

“You think your friends are boring? I’m sure they’d love to hear how– ”

“Like you’d care to hear about their eighth anniversary or the fact that Hermione’s twenty-two weeks pregnant or that they’ve just adopted kittens or that the house they’re– ”

“They have kittens?” Draco interrupted, eyes alight, no longer teasing.

“That’s what you want to talk about? Kittens?”

“Why not?”

_Because you’re Draco Malfoy_ was the answer that popped into Harry’s head but he held his tongue. “I have a photo if you’d like to– ”

“Yes.”

And that’s how Harry spent the next twenty-seven minutes talking about kittens with his arch-nemesis, well, ex-arch-nemesis.

It was strange. If he forgot who he was talking to (which was easy to do considering their topic of conversation), Harry felt surprisingly comfortable. He was enjoying dinner with Draco Malfoy. It was confusing. 

Even more confusing was when the bill came around and the waiter announced they didn’t split bills. It made Harry realise the awkwardness of their situation. Dinner was far more complicated than lunch and came with its own world of implications. He and Draco fought over who would pay but in the most awkwardly polite way, neither of them addressing the strangeness of it, so Harry just gave up and let Draco win. 

They walked out together, the high note of Bohemian Rhapsody punctuating their silence. 

Outside, Draco turned to Harry. “Are you…sober enough to apparate?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m fine. Look!” He pretended to walk an invisible tightrope on the pavement to prove he could walk in a straight line. He stumbled a bit.

“Would you apparate me home?”

“Oh.” Harry suddenly realised why Draco was so interested in his sobriety. He felt his face heat up. “Sure,” he squeaked. 

Draco stepped in close and clasped a hand tightly around Harry’s forearm. As Draco whispered his address, Harry felt warm breath tingle the baby hairs on his forehead. He screwed up his eyes and concentrated on Draco’s words. Now was not the time to be splinched. 

A short whoosh later and Draco’s grip dropped but he didn’t move away. Harry could still feel him there, standing impossibly close. Harry opened his eyes.

They were on a small porch with a large blue door in front of them. Draco had his keys out but he made no move to use them. A rushing sound passed through Harry’s ears that he knew had nothing to do with alcohol or apparition. 

Harry met Draco’s eyes and knew he was hearing – feeling – the same thing. The night had an electricity to it that felt like destiny or fate or something equally as pathetic. Something important was going to happen and Harry was ready for it. 

Draco leaned down barely a centimetre, but it was enough to send a shooting warmth all over Harry’s body because he knew exactly what was coming. He tilted his head ever so slightly in preparation and Draco followed the action immediately. 

Under the bright porch light, Harry could appreciate the blotchy pink blush that covered Draco’s face, accumulating with dark red patches at the tips of his cheekbones. Draco had a brilliant bone structure, Harry decided. He’d never looked this closely before. 

Draco leaned down further still. This was it. Harry could feel the heat of his own blush all the way down his neck. He wondered if it was obvious. His skin wasn’t as unforgiving as Draco’s but this wasn’t a little blush. This was heat like Harry had never felt. 

Harry let his eyes close. He didn’t mean for them to flutter but in his pre-kiss daze, they did anyway. He lifted his head slowly to cover the rest of the distance and felt the light brush of freezing cold lips against his. He pressed in eagerly, wanting more, but the lips – Draco – moved back out of his reach.

“We shouldn’t.”

Harry’s eyes flung open. Draco had taken a step back and he wasn’t looking at Harry, instead staring down at the keys he fiddled with in his hand.

Harry felt duped. They’d been so close. “I’m hardly even drunk.”

Draco didn’t say anything. 

“You don’t have to be all proper about it, I have a clear head and I know for absolute certain that I want to kiss you.”

Draco looked up. His lips looked particularly delectable. “Auror Potter, I’m your teacher.’

“You are not.”

“Am I not teaching your department consent?"

“Yeah,” Harry admitted. “But you work for me. I’m paying you!"

“The Ministry of Magic is paying me actually.”

“Well, it’s coming out of my department’s budget…” Harry muttered. 

“That doesn’t help the situation,” Draco said. “It only makes it more complicated.”

“Yeah, but they kind of cancel each other out don’t they?"

Draco laughed and shook his head a little. “They certainly do not, Auror Potter.” He took a backwards step closer to his door, away from Harry. “Look, I enjoyed this evening with you probably more than I should have.”

“You’re not my teacher,” Harry insisted.

Draco ignored him and continued. “But you have to go. Now.”

“Okay,” Harry conceded. “If that’s what you want."

Draco turned. “Thank you, Auror Potter,” he said quietly to his door. 

"Stop calling me that,” Harry muttered to himself as he apparated away. 


	4. Thursday

Harry was back to dreading consent training. Only this time it was worse. He was no longer dreading it because he hated his teacher, but because he had a _thing_ for his teacher.

A thing for Draco Malfoy!

He wasn’t sure how or why or even _when_ it had started. All he knew was last night he wanted to kiss Draco, someone he had hated until just a few days ago, more than anything. And it didn’t make any sense.

He tried to talk himself out of it. He thought about all the things Draco had done to him, how he had helped Voldemort, how the very proof of his crimes was etched into his skin forever, but it didn’t work. The old Draco seemed far too distant to blame, and the new Draco had ensnared his rational brain somehow.

Even worse than just his feelings was the memory of the night before: how he’d tried to convince Draco to kiss him. He couldn’t think of a more embarrassing memory to walk into consent training with. He’d been a bit tipsy but not nearly drunk enough to claim a blackout. He was going to have to face Draco knowing what they both knew.

As humiliated as he was, he wanted to get it out of the way and without an audience. He knew Draco set up early so he made his way to the briefing room before training, ready to both apologise and request they never speak of the night again.

Goldstein stopped him at the door.

“Harry,” she said with forced politeness.

“Yes, Carrie?”

Her lips twitched at the nickname. Before Harry had been promoted to Head Auror, they’d been partners: Harry and Carrie. It made sense. Goldstein was more fond of Carina and Harina but it just didn’t have the same ring to it. 

“Are you dating Malfoy?” She asked or, perhaps, accused.

Harry was so thrown by the question he didn’t immediately deny it (which Goldstein definitely noticed). “Why do- ”

“I saw you leave with him.”

“That wasn’t anything,” Harry covered. Because it wasn’t. At least it wasn’t supposed to be. “It was just– we’re friends.”

“Since when?”

“Tuesday?” Harry offered.

Goldstein laughed at that and Harry relaxed. “Just be careful, alright,” she said seriously. “Don’t forget who he is.”

“I don’t think I ever knew who he was.”

“Alright, wise man,” Goldstein said rolling her eyes. “He’s a good teacher, I’ll give him that. But that’s all I’ll give him. If you want to give him a bit more– ” she winked – “I guess I can’t stop you.”

“Goldstein!”

She winked again and pushed into the briefing room. Harry’s opportunity to speak with Draco had passed. He was actually a little relieved. 

The relief didn’t last long.

Draco didn’t look at Harry once throughout the training. It made Harry uneasy. Was he angry? Did he regret going out? Was he horrified by the laminated menus and too polite to say anything?

Draco had moved on to discussing magical influences on consent and how to look for symptoms of love potions and the Imperius Curse. There was a small moment when Harry tinkered with the idea he’d been given a love potion but he knew he was just looking for an excuse, a justification for his absurd feelings. 

Besides, he wasn’t in love. He just had a thing. A very small, controllable thing. A thing that he could ignore and be professional about. 

Although it probably wasn’t very professional that he was staring intently at Draco’s lips and remembering how cold they felt against his own. Or how they would feel on–

“Okay, but _legally_ ,” Tandel said loudly, interrupting Harry’s thoughts. “If they were under Imperio or a love potion, it would be the caster or whoever had given it to them who we’d arrest. It’s not anyone else’s legal duty to know that.”

“Auror Tandel,” Draco said more calmly than Harry would have been able to, “I understand your position as a magical law enforcement officer may affect your perception of this training but it should be very clear that I am not teaching you about the law, which I expect you already know better than me, I’m teaching you about consent.”

“But that’s the law– ”

“The law isn’t nearly broad enough to cover the context of each individual situation requiring consent. This isn’t about whether you can be arrested for something, it’s about affording others the respect and dignity they deserve.”

Harry felt a tingle at the back of his neck. On reflection, maybe he had a rather big thing. 

“So,” Draco continued, “the ability to spot the effects of a love potion or an Imperius Curse is something we should be all be considerate enough to learn.”

Tandel clearly hadn’t been as enthralled by Draco’s speech as Harry. “Why?” He asked.

“If you require training on why you should care about other people, then perhaps you’re not qualified to be an Auror.”

McKinnon gasped. The room tittered. Harry almost popped a boner. 

Tandel stood up, his face purple. “You’re a Death Eater,” he shouted. “You’re not qualified to be _anything_.”

Harry was on his feet in seconds, but Goldstein spoke up before he could.

“Oh shut up, Ethan,” she said from her seat. “He’s qualified to put you in your fucking place.”

McKinnon gasped again. Tandel stormed out.

Harry tried to follow him but Tandel wasn’t in the most talkative of moods. He stopped at his desk only to pick up his jacket and then ducked into a lift just as the doors closed. Harry took the next one but by the time he’d reached the Ministry floor, Tandel had already disappeared through the Floo gates. 

It was probably best Harry hadn’t caught him. He needed to calm down before he formally reprimanded him. 

When Harry returned to the Auror floor, the class had ended. He stopped by the briefing room anyway just to check Draco wasn’t still packing up or, as he secretly hoped, waiting for him. 

He wasn’t. But something on the desk caught Harry’s eye. Draco had left behind his wand.

 

* * *

 

Harry held onto Draco’s wand all day. He thought Draco would return within the hour – surely he would notice it was missing almost immediately – but he didn’t. Another hour passed, and he still hadn’t shown. It didn’t make sense. 

Tandel didn’t show up all day either. 

There wasn’t anything pressing today so the other Aurors left on time, but Harry stayed behind. Draco had to turn up eventually. He wouldn’t spend a night without his wand.

It was almost six and Harry was beginning to get impatient. He laid on his office floor and twirled Draco’s wand in his hand. A number of thoughts were running through his head. Had Draco left his wand on purpose? Did he expect Harry to bring it to him? Did he even know it was missing? 

As he twirled the wand above himself, Harry finally recognised it as beech wood. Now he understood.

“Auror Potter?”

Harry sprung to his feet, shoving the wand into his back pocket and smoothing back his hair (not that it was ever anything but wild anyway).

“Malfoy,” he greeted. “I suppose you’re looking for the wand you left behind.”

Draco nodded but his eyes narrowed – Harry’s phrasing hadn’t been missed.

Harry leaned down behind his desk and slipped the wand from his back pocket, pretending to pull it from one of his drawers.

He passed it over and felt the icy brush of Draco’s hand.

“Thank you.” Draco turned to leave.

“You didn’t notice it was missing until now?"

Draco paused at the door. "I’m not as reliant on magic as I once was, Auror Potter. As it turns out, there is usually more than one way to do things.”

“Don’t you need it to apparate?” Harry pressed again.

“I prefer the Floo network.”

“Nobody prefers the Floo network.”

Draco turned back to Harry, holding the wand tightly to his chest. “I do."

“I know that’s not your wand."

Draco’s eyes flashed. ”It’s not stolen.”

“I know,” Harry said. He felt silly for not picking up on it earlier. His department even supplied the wands for the Ministry loans – they often found stockpiles of them in raids. “Are you not allowed your own?”

Draco sighed, dropping his hands and twirling the wand between his fingers. “Condition of my release from Azkaban. Can’t own a wand. I hadn’t used one for years until this job. Perks of working for the Ministry, I guess.” He slipped the wand into his pocket. “I’m late.”

“I can get you off,” Harry offered and then blanched at his phrasing. “I mean,” he said slowly, “I can stop them from giving you a fine.”

“I can afford it,” Draco said quietly. 

There was a strange electrified tension between them that Harry wanted to ride and break at the same time. He moved to walk over to Draco but Draco took a step into the hallway in response and Harry stopped. 

“I’m sorry about last night,” he said. “I shouldn’t have assumed when you asked me to apparate you home that you wanted–”

“I did,” Draco said. “Want.” And then he left. 


	5. Friday

Harry was barely in his office a minute before Tandel barged in. He stood above Harry’s desk for a second, as if he intended to intimidate and then took a step back and dropped into the guest chair. 

“Where have you been?” Harry asked, less calmly then he would have liked. 

“Sorry about storming off yesterday,” Tandel said a bit sheepishly. “I’ll take it as a leave day obviously.”

Harry hadn’t expected the apology, but he wasn’t so sure how genuine it was. “You should be apologising to Malfoy.”

“Harry,” Tandel said, “you know me. I’m not a bad person but this training is stupid. None of us need it. We’re fucking Aurors. As if we’re going to go and rape someone. It’s embarrassing.” 

Harry swallowed the anger that bubbled in his throat and tried to be diplomatic. “That’s not all the training is about. I think we can all benefit from– ”

“Not me. I’m not going.”

Harry gritted his teeth. “There’s one more session.”

Tandel shrugged. 

Harry took a much needed deep breath. “The training is mandatory. If you don’t attend today– ”

“You can’t fire me,” Tandel interrupted, jumping to his feet. “That’s bullshit.”

“Ethan, I haven’t fired you. Turn up and keep your mouth shut or pack up your desk. The decision is yours.” Harry rubbed his eyes under his glasses. “Now get the fuck out of my office.”

 

* * *

 

Tandel didn’t show up for class. Harry felt equal parts relief and disappointment. 

So riled up had Harry been from his encounter with Tandel, he’d forgotten to be nervous about seeing Draco again. When walked into the room with a grey button-up, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows to display his purple armband as always, Harry felt his stomach clench. 

Draco, it seemed, was determined to ignore Harry in class yet again. He spoke to the room, never once glancing in Harry’s direction, explaining the agenda for their last session was very loose in order to accomodate questions.

Peakes raised her hand. “I’m curious why this training is called ‘consent is sexy’ when we’ve mainly discussed theory.”

“It’s just a catchy name to get people interested in the training. The important– ”

“So it isn’t sexy,” Stretton commented. 

“No, of course it is,” said Draco. “It’s inherently sexy to have complete confirmation your sexual partner or partners are experiencing the same simultaneous desire to participate in a particular activity with you.”

It was clear Stretton had no idea what Draco had said by the silence that followed his words. 

McKinnon piped up. “Maybe we need an example.”

“We’ve already covered examples of consent.”

“No, an example of it being _sexy,_ ” McKinnon clarified.

“I don’t know how you want me to– ”

“Harry can help you,” Goldstein said loudly. She winked at Harry like she was doing him a favour. “If you need a volunteer.”

Harry was ready to back out, give an excuse, any excuse, but by the time he’d opened his mouth Draco had already said, “Sure,” in a weak voice. 

Harry stood up, giving Goldstein his filthiest look outside of Draco’s view. He walked to the front of the room, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. He heard Draco clear his throat. 

“Consent can be sexy in a number of different ways. Of course it depends on the people involved– ” his eyes darted to Harry as he reached his side– ” and the con– ”

“Context of the situation.” Goldstein finished Draco’s mantra for him. “Yes we know. Go on.”

Draco cleared his throat again. “I guess the best way in this limited scenario would be to demonstrate explicit consent so I’ll just– er.” He turned to Harry. “Auror Potter, would you like to have sex with me?”

The room laughed. Harry’s face immediately heated up. “…yes?”

More laughter. 

Draco turned to address the class. “Let’s pretend for the purpose of this example that Harry is actually enthusiastic about his response.” He turned back to Harry. “Now you go,” he whispered.

It took Harry a moment to get what Draco was after and another moment to work up the courage to vocalise it. “Malfoy, would you like to have sex with me?”

More laughter still. Harry distinctly heard Stretton mutter, “ _This_ is sexy?”

“Yes,” Draco answered (Harry not Stretton) with far more intensity than the situation warranted. Harry held back a shiver – he knew any reaction wouldn’t go unnoticed by Goldstein. 

Draco addressed the room again. “Now, remember what I said about questions. It helps to be specific.”

He took a step closer to Harry. “Would you like it if I touched you here?” He vaguely gestured toward’s Harry’s chest.

Harry blanked. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to reply. “I don’t know.”

“What about here?” Draco asked, his voice softer as he moved his hand more boldly to hover beside Harry’s waist. 

“Yes,” Harry found himself saying.

Draco took another step forward. “And here,” he whispered bringing his other hand up to hover at Harry’s lips.

“Yes,” Harry whispered back. He could feel Draco’s cold fingers digging into the skin at his waist and lightly brushing his lips and yet, Draco wasn’t touching him at all. He waited, bated breath, for the next question.

McKinnon’s voice interrupted the moment.

“Shit, this _is_ sexy.”

Draco stepped back immediately. Harry felt himself slump at the loss of stimulation. For a moment he’d forgotten they weren’t alone. 

“I think we’ve er– proved the point,” Draco said, his eyes darting between Harry and the rest of the class.

Harry very much agreed.

 

* * *

 

Harry couldn’t wait for class to end. Partially because it was torture to sit in a room with all his employees while he was sporting a semi but more so because he was dying to speak to Draco. Privately. Well, speak might have been the wrong word.

When it finally did end, the other Aurors seemed to take longer than usual to leave, laughing with each other and dragging their heels. A couple even stopped to give their thanks to Draco for the training. 

Harry sat, impatiently, and waited. 

In the end, it was Draco who approached him when the room eventually cleared. “I let that get out of hand. I’m sorry.”

Harry shrugged. “I’m not.” He enjoyed the way Draco’s eyes lit up at that. “You’re not my teacher anymore.”

Draco’s lips pursed. “Auror Potter– ”

“Harry. Call me Harry. Please.”

“Harry,” Draco started again and then faltered. He changed direction. “Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”

“Yes.”

 

* * *

 

This time Harry made the effort to change. Though he knew Draco would upstage his untailored dress pants and his only collared shirt, he didn’t want to be caught in his Auror robes again. Sure enough, Draco arrived in another three-piece, burgundy this time, with a thin black tie. 

Harry felt the magic in his wand spark up. 

At Draco’s direction, Harry apparated them both to a small French restaurant in Notting Hill. It was the type of place with cloth napkins and bound menus. 

When Harry simply pushed his cloth napkin to the side, Draco came around and placed it over his lap for him. As he did his fingers brushed lightly over Harry’s. Once again, Harry was surprised by just how cold they were. 

“Malfoy,” he asked as Draco sat back down. “Why are your hands always so cold?” 

Draco’s eyes flickered down to his left forearm. He’d removed his suit jacket and placed it on the back of his chair so the purple armband was clearly visible. “I’ve been like this ever since…” 

Harry swallowed, understanding. “Malfoy– ” 

“Draco,” Draco corrected. “And don’t even think on it, Harry. I’m used to it. Another fitting punishment.”

“I tend to run a little warm," Harry said.

Draco didn’t look like he understood.

“So we’re probably quite compatible," Harry continued. "Physically.”

Draco gave Harry an odd look. He opened his mouth to say something but before he could, a waiter approached their table. 

They both ordered. Harry took particular note that Draco requested another sparkling water and did the same. Draco’s lips twitched at that. As soon as the waiter left, Draco leaned across the table and whispered. 

“Put up a silencing charm.”

“Why?” Harry whispered back.

“Because I don’t think it’s appropriate to have this discussion in earshot of others.”

Harry didn’t ask any more questions. He pulled his wand out beneath the table and discreetly cast the spell. A gentle hum sounded around them.

“Why aren’t you drinking?” Draco asked. 

“Why aren’t you?” Harry countered.

“Because I’m open to the possibility of having sex with you tonight,” Draco answered without hesitation. 

“Me too,” Harry squeaked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m open to it,” he said in a more dignified tone. “Sex,” He added in case it wasn’t obvious. “With you,” he continued to ramble.

He was very thankful Draco had suggested the silencing charm.

“What are you into?” Draco asked.

“What?”

“Sex,” Draco said loudly. At least it seemed inappropriately loud in relation to their setting. “What kind of sex? I think I remember telling you there were quite a number of ways to have it.”

“Oh!” Harry looked around, making sure the silencing charm was doing its job. “Nothing.”

“Nothing,” Draco repeated.

“I mean, nothing in particular,” Harry clarified. He hadn’t really done much outside of the standard positions they showed you in sex ed. Although, there was that one time an ex-girlfriend had spanked him. “Well actually– ” He started and then faltered. 

“Yes?” Draco prompted.

“No, never mind,” Harry quickly dismissed. He knew there was no way he could say it aloud. “I’m not even sure about it.”

“Why don’t I tell you mine first and then you can tell me yours?”

Harry nodded eagerly.

“I have a sensitive spot here.” Draco tapped at his neck where it met his collarbone. “Here.” He gestured to the side of his waist. “And another spot I can’t point to in public.”

Harry gulped. 

“I enjoy giving blowjobs but not usually receiving them,” Draco continued.

“You don’t like getting _blowjobs_?”

Draco smirked but not unkindly. It was a precious expression that Harry suspected would pervade his dreams. “I take it you do.”

“Of course, I love– ” Harry coughed and looked around. Even with the silencing charm, he felt exposed. “I mean, yeah. I’m surprised you don’t.”

“I don’t trust anyone nearly enough to have their teeth that close to my– ”

“Okay, yeah, I get it, I get it.”

“I’m loud,” Draco said (loudly). “And I like being loud.”

“I’m pretty good at silencing charms,” Harry pointed out, gesturing to the one around them.

Draco let out a soft laugh. Harry closed his eyes so he could appreciate the beautiful sound properly. 

“I prefer gentle touches," Draco continued. "I don’t enjoy pain in any regard and I can’t be convinced otherwise. But if you’d like me to do anything to you- " Harry jerked his eyes open – "I’m not opposed as long as it doesn’t leave a mark.”

Harry wasn’t going to say anything but he could feel his face betraying him. Draco noticed.

“Would you like me to do something to you, Harry?”

“You could– ”Harry paused and coughed, staring down at the table. This was taking a great deal more of his bravery than saving the entire Wizarding World. “Um. You could be a bit rough with me. If you wanted.” He quickly looked up to gauge Draco’s reaction. “No teeth, though,” he added as a light joke when Draco’s face didn’t move. 

“Is that what you want?” Draco asked softly.

“Yes.”

Draco nodded. “Anything else?”

“Um. I’m not sure.”

“What do you usually like?”

Harry had another look around the restaurant. Nobody was paying them any attention. “Well,” he said, turning back to Draco, “I usually...um...take it.”

“Take it?”

Harry didn’t want to have to say it. “You know, like, up the arse.”

“I can work with that,” Draco said nodding again. The only hint that he wasn’t fully composed were the small patches of pink clustered at his cheekbones. 

“What do you usually do?” Harry asked. 

“Whatever my partner wants.”

“But you must have a preference.”

“I find it depends on the partner.” He dropped his eyes to Harry’s lap suggestively. “And the equipment.”

Harry felt himself twitch under Draco’s gaze.

“I could try– I mean I’d be open to– no I didn’t mean open like– I’m just saying, if you want me to...then I’d like to…” Harry trailed off, realising he was rambling. 

“Maybe next time,” Draco suggested. Something inside Harry did a backflip. _Next time._

Harry quickly dropped the silencing charm as their waiter returned, carrying their meals. Harry looked down at his plate without really seeing it. He remembered being fairly eager when he’d ordered it but now he couldn’t imagine sitting at this restaurant for any longer. 

“I’m not hungry,” he said and then looked up. 

The look in Draco’s eyes told Harry he understood the meaning completely. They both stood up. As Draco pulled on his jacket, Harry looked through his wallet for cash to leave for their meals. Finding none, he just threw his whole credit card down on the table and walked out, pulling Draco with him.

Outside, Draco grabbed him by the waist, icy cold fingers digging in, and kissed him like fire. Harry closed his eyes and thought of a large blue door. 

**Author's Note:**

> How I approached the theme of consent: With the light-heartedness the prompt called for and the seriousness the theme required. #consentISsexy
> 
> Hit me up on [tumblr](http://queenofthyme.tumblr.com/) for more drabbles and things or check out my other works on ao3 <3  
>   
> More like this:  
> [How to Apologise to Harry Potter in 10 Days (18k)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8468365e)  
> 


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